


She Never Left

by Twilight2000



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: F/M, Forever Knight - Freeform, Gen, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight2000/pseuds/Twilight2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Season 3 and arguing that "Last Knight" didn't happen in quite the way we might have assumed, Janette saves Nicholas. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Never Left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skieswideopen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skieswideopen/gifts).



She Never Left  
For Fall Fic - Not mine, no money made - but I do love them so...Forever Knight

“Gods, what a headache.” He woke with a pounding in his head like he rarely experienced in the last 800 years. “What the hell?”

Nick looked around to see where he was. Wait – there was a bigger question. He felt like he’d forgotten something important. Maybe where he was could help him remember what he’d forgotten.

The room was well appointed. Mid-century French? He wondered why he felt so muddled. A look out the window should help orient him. As he walked toward the window, he realized the space was small – a kitchen, a loo, this front room and a sleeping room. Someone’s pied-à-terre?

The window was an old one, with two panes opening down to knee level, like a double door. Outside was a view that was very clearly old Rome. He turned to look back at the room. Clearly 18th century French (Why did he think “mid-century” when he first saw it? That was a puzzlement).

So, a Frenchman in Rome or a Roman with Gallic tastes? Either way, it was clearly LaCroix. He was mad at LaCroix, but couldn’t remember why. Something to do with their most recent encounter, but that was all fuzzy. That was odd too, he didn't get fuzzy – his kind didn't in general. Had LaCroix done something to his memory? And what was he doing in Rome instead of Toronto?

One more look out the window confirmed he was 3 floors up and it was still mid-day. Leaving through the window was a bad idea and leaving through the door might well put him in just as much daylight, though it might be worth a look see.

Just as he reached for the door, it was opened by one of the most beautiful, seductive, mysterious women he'd ever known. “Janette!”

She rustled as she came in the door, wearing a full length cape over her evening gown, clearly still dressed from the night before. “Nicola,” she spoke his name as always, as if breathless.

He folded her in his arms and took in the sweet scent of her. “I thought you were lost to us.”

She pushed back against him and looked up at his face, “Nicola, I lost? It was you we thought lost!”

Thoroughly confused, he brought her into the front room and sat down with her. “Tell me what's been happening. I'm having trouble putting it all together.”

She removed her hood and took Nick's hands, “Cherie, you almost died in Toronto!”

“I did?”

She nodded, “LaCroix brought you here to recuperate and he asked me to take care of you. He had something else to take care of. You've been in and out of delirium for the last few days. I only went out to pick up some wine for when you woke up.” At that, she revealed a pair of bottles that looked like they were picked up at a local cafe, though he doubted that.

“Janette, the last time I saw you, you were barely breathing. What happened?”

“Do you really not remember, Nicola?” She stood and went to the small kitchen to pour the wine, ever the civilized one.

“I really don’t remember, Janette. Did LaCroix do something to me?” He was really getting mad at the man now, the more he didn’t remember, the more Nick was certain it was his fault.

She came rustling back toward the couch, two glasses in hand, “Nicola, tell me, what *do* you remember of your last days in Toronto?” She handed him a glass as she lighted on the chaise next to him.

Nick thought for a moment, “I remember a lot of death. People around me dying and thinking that as much as I wanted to stay, it was time to check in with Aristotle and move on. First Screed, then Vachon, then Tracy – it was all too much…” Nick stared off into space, sipping the vintage no human would ever know.

Janette nodded, “It was too much, mon cher. Do you remember more?”

He wondered what she was getting at. Death was all he remembered. Death and being mad at LaCroix. Being Furious. Being so mad he couldn’t imagine ever forgiving him. This was different. “Janette, all I remember is the death and being so furious at LaCroix that I couldn’t even think – madder than I’ve ever been at anyone, even worse than the swan dancer. And I can’t remember why!” He stood and walked to the window. The sun wasn’t shining in the window, but he was as close as he could be to it without going up in smoke. He could feel the heat of his blood in reaction to the light. He wanted to push LaCroix into the furnace of the mid-day sun and he couldn’t find the reason for the rage.

Janette stood, dropping her cape, crossed the room in a few steps and put her hands on his shoulders, “Nicola, the rage is real and I don’t believe He took away any memories. I think you must have suppressed the last days in Toronto because the pain was too great.”

“What pain, Janette? And how are you still alive? You were mortal and dying in my arms when last I saw you!”

His anguish and confusion were so vivid it was painful to Janette to see. She folded him in her arms and hushed. At the first touch of her hold, he could hold on no more and the tears welled up from his ancient, haunted eyes.

“Nicola, come, sit.” She led him to the chaise. “I was mortal and I was dying, you’re right about that. But rather than let me die, you brought me across in what I can only guess was a fugue state. When I awoke, I knew who my new sire was, but I was more hungry than I’d been in a century or more. I took what I needed and fled. At first I was disoriented and not sure of what my reception might be with my new status as your progeny. LaCroix is many things, not all of them good, but to be his is to wield power by extension. Your power, as strong as it once was, has waned as you’ve become known for wanting to become mortal. I was also a little crazy; hating what I’d become as a mortal, dependent and weak again, and finding myself even less forgiving of weakness in mortals for a time.” She looked away, as if in shame.

She stopped, took another drink and continued, through Nicolas’ tears and anguish. “By the time I’d found myself and become civilized again, the situation in Toronto had gotten out of control. Screed was already dead and you were spiraling down, from all reports.”

He nodded, sipping again, looking out the window, “Why can't I remember what happened after Tracy's death?”  
Janette looked down, then back at Nicolas. “There have been times I've lied to you in our past, Nicola, but not now. After Tracy's death, you were distraught and very ready to leave Toronto. LaCroix was pleased you were ready to move on and was ready to take you. You weren't ready to leave without Natalie, which caused a bit of friction, as you might imagine.”

Nicolas exploded – he fairly lept off the chaise, throwing the glass at the fireplace and all but howling as he reached for the windows. Janette put her glass down and ran to stop him, lest he throw himself out the windows in his rage, forgetting himself.

“Oh, god, Janette – Oh GOD – I remember now – I remember what that inhuman MONSTER had me do! Oh Janette, I killed her. That BASTARD let me kill her!”

Janette grabbed his arms and spun him around, slapping him as she did so. “Remember yourself, Nicola! Think! Don't just react!”

Nick could barely breathe, he looked down at Jeanette, his companion of 800 years. Good lord, how many could say that about a friend? She'd stood by him no matter what he'd done or said, no matter what their sire had done or said. “Think?” His voice sounded ragged, “Think about what? That I've destroyed the one human I've loved in 800 years? That I let LaCroix talk me into it because I was weak? Janette, I can't stand it.” He seemed ready to slam his head into the wall, or run out into the sun.

“Nick, listen to me dammit!” Nick stopped, she not only never called him Nick, she never swore. “What?”

She took a deep breath and started again, “Nicola, you didn't kill her. That's what LaCroix wanted you to think, but she didn't die. He knocked you out after you thought you'd killed her, you were ready to die yourself at that moment. He called me and asked me to bring Natalie across. He thought if you had her, you'd be easier to deal with and knew if he brought her across, you'd never forgive him.”

“He finally got one right,” mumbled Nick under his breath.

Janette looked at him, “She's here, Nicola.”

“She's what?” He lept up again, “Where?!?!”

“She came with us, LaCroix is off dealing with business, but Natalie came with us. She's certain you won't want her near you because... she's different now.”

He stopped flailing. “Different... How is she different?”

“She's stronger now. She's more sure of who she is and what she wants. But she's afraid you'll not want her anymore because she's no longer mortal.” Janette was often the helper, but this was a damnably odd situation if ever there was one.

“How could I not want her, Janette?” He was acutely aware of how odd this conversation with this particular woman was, but she was his only lifeline right now. He turned to her, “How could I not want her?” He sat, head in hands, tears running down his face and into his hands.

“Nick?”

It was a very tentative voice, but one he knew well. He was almost afraid to look up because he was afraid she wouldn't be there.

“Nick?” The voice was closer. He could still feel Janette near him, but she had moved away slightly.

He looked up. There was Natalie, as lovely as she'd ever been, if a bit paler. Janette slipped off the chaise and to the side of the room.

“I...” It was quite possibly the first time Nick had ever been at quite such a loss for words.

Natalie walked closer, but didn't join him on the chaise. She just waited.

Nick stood and reached out for her hand. She reached back. He smiled and turned to Janette to thank her – but she was gone. As quietly as a whisper, she'd left. He smiled again, this new world might just work out after all. And as so many times in his long life, he once again, had Janette to thank.


End file.
